


Ten to Fifteen

by FireLordFrowny



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Real World, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-12 23:05:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13557495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireLordFrowny/pseuds/FireLordFrowny
Summary: Ozai has gone to great and grave lengths to spare his unborn child the torture he grew up with.





	Ten to Fifteen

This isn’t entirely unlike their first date all those years ago; the first time they sat down across from one another at a table with awkward, forced smiles, each of them too shy to say the first word, or make the first move. Ursa, just as beautiful as ever, though uneasy and tense. Ozai, unable to maintain eye contact for more than a second or two before glancing off to the side, or pretending to find something askew at the cuff of his sleeve, and nervously fiddling with it for minutes at a time.

The difference between now and then - the only difference that matters to either of them - is that Azulon isn’t perched just a few feet away, looking over Ozai’s shoulder, watching the two of them like a hawk. 

Today, Ozai speaks first; hoarse, but gentle. “How are you?” 

Ursa exhales. Tries to maintain her slight smile. “Alright, considering…” 

Ozai nods, looking away. 

“But how are  _ you?”  _ Ursa leans forward a little, forehead wrinkled with concern as she looks Ozai over; he’s haggard. Tired. She can tell he tried to make himself look more presentable before coming out to see her, but it didn’t really work. 

“Better than ever.” Ozai tells her, and it isn’t exactly a lie, despite his circumstances. At that, Ursa smiles a sad, understanding smile, and instinctively, she slides her hands across the table to reach for his.

_ “No touching!” _

The harsh order came from the guard keeping watch in the corner. Ozai’s jaw clenches, and Ursa’s gaze drops to her lap, embarrassed and humiliated as she withdraws her hands. The four concrete walls surrounding them seem even smaller now. There’s one heavy, metal door at the back of the room, with a tiny window, covered with tempered glass, and steel bars running through. The table they’re sitting at is bolted to the floor, as are the chairs. And Ozai’s ankles and wrists are bound by cuffs and chains. 

Ozai can see from the set of Ursa’s jaw that she’s biting her tongue. Likely holding back tears. He asks, in an effort to make her smile again, but also because he needs to know, “How’s…  the baby?” 

Her hands go to her swollen abdomen, protective and wondrous; she’s due in a matter of weeks, yet she still can’t believe there’s a child growing inside her. “He’s good.” Her voice shakes just a little. “Misses his daddy, I think.” 

Daddy. Ozai still can’t wrap his mind around the fact that soon, there will be a tiny human running around who will know him as ‘daddy.’ 

“Well, I miss him, too.” He manages a smile. 

Ursa points out, low and brittle and bereft, “He’ll be fifteen before you come home.”

“Ten, if I get out on parole.” He tries to be encouraging. 

Ten  _ does _ sound a lot better than fifteen, Ursa thinks, but not by much. That’s still a long time to wait. A long time to hope that Ozai survives. She tells him, “You have to stay out of trouble.” 

He promises, “I will.” 

She tells him, “You can’t make any enemies.” 

He almost laughs. “Actually, so far I’m well respected around here.” Then, bitter and sad, “A lot of these men wish they could have killed their abusers, too.” 

Ursa can see out of the corner of her eye the way the prison guard in the corner glances at Ozai with a mildly furrowed brow. She can’t tell if the look in his eyes was one of disapproval, or envy. Softly, she says to Ozai, “...When you have your parole hearing, the board is going to want to hear you say you’re sorry.” Ozai’s expression darkens. Ursa continues, “Will you be able to do that?”

His response is to clench his jaw.

She begs, softly so that hopefully the guard won’t hear, “You won’t have to mean it. You’ll just have to say it. So they’ll let you go. You can do that, can’t you?” 

When Ozai answers, he doesn’t whisper. He doesn’t care who hears him. “I will never tell anyone that I’m ‘sorry’ for murdering my father to protect my unborn child. And when our baby is old enough, I want him to know, too, that I’m not sorry. I have  _ no _ regret. None whatsoever. And that is the reason why being here will not break me. If the parole board asks me whether or not I’m ‘sorry’, that’s what I’ll tell them.” 

Ursa knows that right now, in the moment, she’ll never be able to convince him otherwise. She just hopes - desperately hopes - that when the time comes, Ozai will soften enough to put his family before his ego. So for now, Ursa simply concedes with a sigh.

The guard outside the door gives a knock, then announces, “One more minute.” 

Ursa gasps a little, brow furrowed at Ozai. “Already?” 

Another sad chuckle from the prisoner. “If only time would go by this quickly when you’re gone.” 

She promises, telling him urgently, “I’ll come back as soon as I can. As often as I can.” 

“I know you will.” Really, Ozai knows that he won’t be seeing her again any time in the near future; the trip here is too long, and Ursa is too pregnant to be traveling so often. And once the baby is born, neither of them will be in any position to endure a five hour road trip with any regularity. Ozai knows that this time, when they say goodbye, it could be for a very, very long time. He glances at the clock behind Ursa - forty five seconds left. He tells her, “I need you to promise me something.” 

Ursa does not like the sound of this. She raises her eyebrows, nervous and inquisitive. Then Ozai continues, “Don’t… don’t make yourself be alone if you don’t have to. If someone comes along… whom you care for, who cares for our child… you don’t have to wait for me.” 

“What? No. No.” She shakes her head as she insists, “Ozai, that isn’t going to happen. The three of us are all going to be together someday.” 

“I certainly hope so.” He agrees. Then he adds, forehead wrinkled, “But fifteen years is a long time for either of you to wait for anyone.” 

“You aren’t  _ anyone! _ ” 

Though Ursa would love nothing more than to stay and argue, the guard is opening the door now. Expressionless, he gestures for her to come. “Time’s up, ma’am.” 

She’s still sitting. Still glaring at Ozai, who’s still staring at her. The guard repeats, “Ma’am.” 

She swallows. Exhales deeply before getting to her feet, looking straight ahead of her as she heads for the door. Ozai turns to watch her leave. He says, “Goodbye…” 

Ursa’s voice is soft, and sad, and she can’t make herself look back as she responds, “Goodbye.”


End file.
